Dream The New

Our future calls us into now where we create miracles.

My grandson wants to build a spaceship; he’s
dictated a list of supplies for ease
in construction. He’s been talking all week
about his newly inspired desire. Bring
me your impossible ideas, please
create the improbable. Run and seek
the stars to illuminate the slime, green
and glowing, meaning zilch to what’s been seen.
It costs a pittance in the world that’s been
to shine with power and imagine when
the world’s aflame. We’re asked to honor dreams.
Remember, none of this is what it seems.

Inspired by Slime, Zilch, Newly and Pittance.

Hissing Summer Lawns

I stepped into joy, leaving sibilant
hisses, poisons poured superficially
on the lush lawns of wealthy dissonance
frightened people buy artificially

so it looked risky, that leap, precipice
plunging with courage and sweet inner light
and led by stars into my genesis
this new earth emerging from the darkest night.

Inspired by; Risk, Sibilant, Joy and Courage.  And this self-portrait painted by my 4-year-old grandson which mirrors my leap beautifully.

And a big nod to Joni Mitchell’s The Hissing of Summer Lawns:

“Darkness
With a joyful mask
Darkness
Tube’s gone, darkness, darkness, darkness
No color no contrast…”

Consider This

I hang out with poets and shamans
pure-hearted children create art

willing to question
this cosmology, the start I need

to find hidden beliefs`
walking me.

Scientists not so much, that religion
leaves me cold, separation’s touch

of pain, peeling every layer much
like an onion to reveal the emptiness

you feel when dissecting dead things
expecting life will emerge. How absurd.

We’re schooled so young, punished and scorned
when we speak the heart’s knowing

formed in play’s glowing. In these strange
times as illusions crack

and collapse, limp in our scrutiny
at last our new eyes see,

the false outline renounced—
inevitable when so pronounced.

The smallest being shows
the emperor has no clothes.

My young grandson demands I talk
to my people, who sleepwalk

led into constant dread.
There is no time to play

in fear. We enter now:
we presence, clear

the dregs of hypnotic tales
which fail as we wail

just before we enter joy
centered and connected

the balanced whole respected
as we choose to drop the ruse

manufactured illusions
so obviously untrue.

 

Praise

A spiritual practice is a generator of light. The light needs to come in on all levels.  We need to ask: where do I clearly say, it is happening “out there”?  We all create the world.~Thomas Huebl

I feel inspired to listen
to the song of yesterday, the light
spilling into cracks, exposing
me in new and startling ways
of being. I cannot hear those words
again, they will arrive anew as
sun and gentle rain, each moment
of spring leaping to luxuriance
the bursting bud a lead-in, once upon a time
in the narrative shift
and I am fluid
as I’ve always been
seeping through my self-made
traps through deep karmic shade.
I arrive belonging.
I bloom essential.
I sing and sing and sing
and if my voice reaches
dark places I’ve planted
in you, I bring light
I am a prayer
in the connected field
right now
celebrating
this step
now this
the way love reveals.

 

Fierce Narrative Shift

The hidden costs now fully leaved
and we can choose to believe

hundreds of thousands of years
life brimming close and vital

feeding each other with love survival
plain, we’re here, what changed

is only story. The one is the glory
and praise, divine nature’s call

here in my instrument I set my intent
if there’s one thing sweeping the globe

it’s control by fear, and I won’t host it here.
Every traumatized fragment will arise

that happens when you’re hypnotized
awake I commit to my song, to speak

when I perceive the wrong, embrace
the hidden places clamoring to steer

upon the rocks of misguided fear.
one thing to praise and love

awakens my desire to be a force
the divine law the source

outside we stride into the light
know in our hearts what is right

I’m here for this. Essential me. Please
add your voice in this time to rejoice.